A/N: This is basically an idea I had when I was listening to 'I Should Tell You'. I started out kinda just being my usual random ADD self, joking around and making up new lyrics like, "I shouldn't tell you I'm a junkie, I can't stop shooting up...I shouldn't tell you I'm so rusty I hardly remember how to have sex..." XXDD It was very entertaining. And suddenly, Maureen appeared, and she just said, "I shouldn't tell you I've been cheating on you." And I just froze and opened up a Word doc on the spot. And began typing up this AN. XD
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I Shouldn't Tell You
I swear I didn't mean to. Last night I went to that one place Roger used to play at, you know, before he...and there was this guy. He kind of looked like Collins and you mixed together. I know that sounds weird, since a blonde white guy and a black guy don't really mix well. But that's what it seemed like. He had the same deep voice Collins has...and the same soft kisses you have...
Dammit, you probably wouldn't care about that. You probably would just care that I ended up in his apartment wearing nothing but that perfume you got me. I remember you got me that perfume from that little place in West Village, and you never leave East Village unless you have to...and you said that Collins had suggested the fragrance – Spring Lilies – because of how we met on the first real day of spring. You always did things sweet like that. You're always so loving, and caring, and...
Shit. If you knew everything I do to you every day, you would hate me. I know you would. Even if I'll never tell you. All I'm doing is staring at my own reflection in the mirror in the bathroom, pretending it's you I'm talking to instead of my own blotchy face. My mascara's running because of you, Mark. Because just thinking of how I would hurt you if you ever knew...
I don't know what I would do if you found out. I don't know what you would do. Well, you would probably cry. Most people wouldn't think somebody like you would cry, all secretive and such, never showing your emotions to everyone else. But I know better.
That time, about a month ago, when I came back to the loft really late, like around midnight. I had gone to that same bar I went to last night, and there was this guy...or maybe it was a girl...hell, Mark, I've cheated on you so many times, they blend together. That's how bad I am. But I wasn't thinking that when I walked into the loft. I was too drunk to think.
You looked up from the couch when I walked, and I know now you had been probably waiting up for me. You didn't even care what I had been doing, didn't even consider that I might have been cheating on you. You just rushed right up to me and trapped me in the tightest hug ever, sobbing, "I was so worried about you." I guess you thought I had been mugged or something.
Well, you kinda shook me out of my stupor for a second, and I hugged you back, and said something like, "I'm all right, Pookie."
I'm all right, Pookie. That's all I could fucking think up. But I'm not all right. Because I go to sleep at night next to you, and I think of what will happen the day you learn that I don't think I even love you anymore, or that last night I only thought about how much better his sex was than any sex I have with you, or that...hell, I think I don't even like guys anymore.
You didn't do anything to make me decide it, Mark. But I just don't think guys really do much for me anymore. I mean, all guys – even you, sweetie – are kind of idiots. Well, not just that. That's getting a little too general there. But I just...oh, you wouldn't understand.
Which is why I can never tell you. Hell, all I can do right now is stay with you because I don't want to break your heart. I guess in that sense I do still love you, Mark. But I love you like my little brother. We can still be friends, but when you get home...
I've met somebody new, Mark. That's all I'll say. I won't tell you who it is even. I just don't want to have to spend Thanksgiving next week with you knowing I don't love you like I used to. I really did love you, Mark. And when you kissed me, it was heaven...but now, I just...fell out of love. You wouldn't understand anyways.
Then again, maybe you have always known. Maybe I never needed to tell you anything. I think sometimes when you give me a certain look...it's hard to describe, Marky. But I feel like you're dissapointed in me for something. Like you can tell I'm doing all these things. But...I just can't.
I shouldn't tell you I've been cheating on you.